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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817497">running out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/treztine/pseuds/treztine'>treztine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>merciless strength and unbending resolve [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Light Angst, that's the whole fic, they talk and then go to bed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:30:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/treztine/pseuds/treztine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“We’re running out of time.”</p><p>It was a whisper barely heard. But there it was; the source of her recent impatience and the reason why she’d lashed out. The Warrior had figured as much was on Alisaie's mind, but it was still a relief to hear her admit it out loud, on her own terms.</p><p>“You can sense it too, can’t you?” Alisaie asked. “Urianger and Thancred and even Y’shtola—they’re <i>fading</i>.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alisaie Leveilleur/Original Character(s), Alisaie Leveilleur/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>merciless strength and unbending resolve [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/892125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>running out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was something about going down to the Tempest that made Poppy’s skin crawl. Even after she and the Scions reemerged from the sea, Amaurot clung to her. It was stubborn and haunting, like a ghost she could never quite shake, always nagging in the back of her thoughts. It refused to give her peace, not since her final battle with Hades. And it made sense, she supposed, seeing as it was where she very nearly lost her life.</p><p>The false city felt even more like the graveyard it truly was without its watchful steward there to mock their efforts. Still, what they managed to glean from Anamnesis Anyder’s seemingly empty halls was what kept Poppy awake long into the night. Her already fitful slumber—one lined with scraps of nightmares too torn to piece together, thankfully—being interrupted by an unexpected visitor didn't help matters much either.</p><p>If Amaurot was a graveyard then Poppy's room in the Pendants was like a coffin at the worst of times—in the days before her near-death—and a cage at best when she was ordered every so often to return to it. Granson’s rightful anger at the mockery of Ardbert and his puppeteer’s false call was another chain that bound her there, more weight added to her already burdened shoulders. But it was also the final nail that drove Poppy to break her binds and go against the stern commands of her concerned comrades.</p><p>The darkness was always a comfort, at least. The shadows of the Crystarium accepted her as they always did, swirling about in their rhythmless patience, willing to keep her hidden. Poppy traipsed familiar walkways, descended stairwells, crossed empty courtyards. She became lost in the quiet lull of the labyrinthine city, relieved to simply breathe in the chill air of the night and exist for a while without duties or expectations or heavy thoughts. The ever-present azure glow of the Tower lit her way to guide her pathless journey, as did the stars. A glance skyward prompted a brief burst of anxiety, but it was quelled when no phantom meteors crossed her vision.</p><p>“You, there.”</p><p>And just like that, the shadows pulled away, both from her thoughts and her surroundings. The warm glow of the torch-lit marketplace wasn’t exactly the best place to go unnoticed, though some small part of Poppy’s mind—the part that urged her feet to take her to that spot in particular—knew she'd hoped to be found.</p><p>“I thought I made myself perfectly clear before,” the guard spoke with a hair of curtness, “when I said that you were to <em>do as you're told </em>and rest.”</p><p>An accusatory gaze landed on Poppy with all the sharpness of an arrow, and each successive word emptied the quiver in turn. She shrank beneath the barrage, ears flattening with the same sheepishness of a child caught stealing sweets. A playful thrill danced through her as well, and curled both the tip of her tail and the corner of her mouth. There was something equally charming and terrifying to see her beloved fill the impromptu role as part of Lyna’s guard so well.</p><p>Alisaie approached in measured steps, arms crossed, rapier heavy on her belt. Her fingers taped against her arm with obvious impatience. Poppy put on her most innocent smile.</p><p>“Am I under arrest?” she asked with utmost seriousness as she batted her lashes. A scoff was the true answer to the question before a reply came.</p><p>“Oh, believe me, had I the authority, you would have been fastened in manacles ages ago,” Alisaie shot back, all without missing a beat.</p><p>“I didn't realize it was a crime to get some fresh air!” Poppy pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense and surprise. Alisaie waved away her melodrama with the flick of a wrist, like swatting a pesky fly.</p><p>“You've had your fill of air. Back to bed with you. <em>Now</em>.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“<em>None of that.</em>”</p><p>“Darling, please. Have mercy—”</p><p>Alisaie ignored Poppy's stuttering and slipped a finger beneath the leather straps of her necklace. When she was pulled along behind her beloved like a misbehaved pup, Poppy was glad that none were about at such a late hour to witness her scolding. Though, she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. Alisaie always managed to lighten her mood, even when Poppy herself was the unfortunate soul at whom the fiery woman’s ire was directed.</p><p>Up they climbed, all the way back to Poppy's room. Alisaie didn't loosen her grip, even once inside. She tugged Poppy all the way to the bed and only let go to promptly urge the insubordinate Warrior to take a seat with a not-so-gentle shove.</p><p>Poppy plopped down on the edge of the bed and stared up at Alisaie, who looked back at her with a keen sharpness, as if she expected Poppy to obediently crawl beneath the covers before her eyes. The stalemate lasted for but a breath before Poppy cracked the looming tension with a toothy smile.</p><p>“And what are you going to do to keep me here? Tie me to the bed?”</p><p>She could almost hear Alisaie's eyes roll. Poppy earned herself a flick on the forehead.</p><p>“I would if I knew you wouldn't get a thrill out of that,” Alisaie said, each word more droll than the last. “<em>Sleep</em>.”</p><p>Poppy rubbed her sore forehead, sighing deeply and with utmost drama yet again. She pouted up at the clearly unamused woman who loomed over her. “And what about you?” she asked. Whined, rather, with how her voice lilted and stretched around the question.</p><p>That was the final straw for Alisaie. She snapped, patience growing ever thinner.</p><p>“<em>What</em> about me?”</p><p>Poppy's jaw closed shut in surprise at the unexpected harshness of her tone. Her eyes swept over Alisaie for only a brief moment then, but she noticed how her hair was mused and slightly unkempt, the faint shadows of exhaustion that lined her eyes, and the way she carried herself, like there was something within her, coiled tightly and fit to burst out at any moment. Alisaie stiffened beneath the scrutiny.</p><p>“You need to rest too, you know,” Poppy said, quiet but firm.</p><p>She knew Alisaie all too well, knew how she'd protest, how she'd say she felt perfectly fine and bring up how she had guard duties to attend to. So she preempted the argument by reaching up to pluck the linkpearl from Alisaie's ear.</p><p>“Hello, Captain Lyna?” Poppy spoke into the device. Alisaie stared at her with wide eyes, too stunned to say anything or move to stop her.</p><p>“Aye, speak,” a voice replied a moment later, unmistakably belonging to the stern Captain of the guard.</p><p>“Yes, this is the Warrior of Darkness speaking. I’m relieving a guard of yours from her post,” Poppy said with as much formality as she could muster. “A certain sword-wielding elf. She needs her rest, you see.”</p><p>There was a long breath of silence filled only with the faint crackle of the transmission. “I see,” Lyna finally replied. Even through the static of the linkpearl, Poppy could hear amusement curl the edges of the words. “Very well. I'll change the guard a bit early, then. Rest well, the both of you.”</p><p>The disconnecting click of the device was deafening. Poppy grinned despite how the daggers glared at her were sharp enough to kill.</p><p>Alisaie weighed her options, it seemed, though the intensity of her stare was enough to suggest that there was a high chance she might just walk out of the room. There was something that lingered beneath her gaze and went beyond the usual playful nature of their bouts. That same tightly coiled something that Poppy had noticed before but couldn't quite place. Alisaie bristled, full of venom and fire.</p><p>“Fine,” she said, hushed and sounding bitter. “Have it your way.”</p><p>Poppy had braced herself for Alisaie to storm out, but was surprised to see her spin on her heel and head for the wardrobe, where her spare sleeping clothes were stored. All the air was sucked out of the room. Getting ready for bed had never been so tense before.</p><p>Poppy removed her cloak and her boots and all else, slow and methodical, feeling the weight return, somehow, with each layer shed. Faint bruises and scrapes hid beneath, earned in their quest for answers. The heaviness of everything—of Amaurot, the false copy of Ardbert—returned, pulling her down onto the sheets against her will.</p><p>Guilt found her as well. Poppy wondered, the fool that she was, if she’d crossed an unspoken boundary or taken her teasing too far. She tried to formulate some sort of apology or even just a question that might start a much-needed conversation, but was unsure what to say. Neither she nor her partner were the best with words, after all.</p><p>The severity of Alisaie’s silence suggested she fared no better. Poppy could sense it, even from across the room.</p><p>It was not an uncommon sight as of late, she realized; clenched fists and pursed lips and sharp eyes that betrayed little aside from a strained sort of annoyance. Even then, as Alisaie shed her weapon and layers of clothing in favor of things much softer meant for sleep, she remained bristled and out of reach, shielded by a different sort of armor.</p><p>Tension was a tangible thing that fell from Alisaie, as leaves would fall from a bough during a summer storm. Poppy knew all too well how the tangled bramble that writhed within her must’ve felt. And she knew there was little she could do to ease the ache of the thorns, aside from wait and pray that Alisaie would allow her to pluck them out.</p><p>Poppy lay in bed, dressed in naught but bandages and thin nightclothes, feeling useless and sore after the day’s battles. Visions of meteors and the phantom of Hydaelyn’s ever-echoing voice replayed in her mind, but Alisaie’s footfalls were enough to hold her attention. They were loud and purposeful as she flitted from task to task in preparation for bed, almost mirroring the heaviness of whatever it was that occupied her thoughts. Poppy watched her through the corner of a bleary eye. She remained patient, even despite the enticing lull of sleep that blurred the edges of her vision.</p><p>Luckily, her silent patience paid off, and it wasn’t long before Alisaie sat down on the edge of the bed.</p><p>The clouded tempest of her mood followed her, bringing with it a static that crackled the air between them. Alisaie’s back was to her, but Poppy didn’t have to see her face to know she was stressed. She saw it in the strain that curved Alisaie’s spine, tensed her shoulders, followed through the motions of her arms as she raised them to undo her braid—the last thing left to take care of before she could sleep. But her hands froze there, barely touching the bright silver of her hairpin. Poppy could almost see the fissures form.</p><p>“Alisaie,” she murmured. Her hoarse voice finally broke the silence between them, the name scratching her throat as it crawled along each chord. “Talk to me.”</p><p>Alisaie’s hands fell. Her fingers curled into the sheets, gripping them as if she held on for dear life. Poppy knew all too well that she bit back whatever sharpness it was that her tongue threatened to lash her way. And she remembered how Alisaie had failed to do just that, when she snapped on Bismarck’s back. The impatient orders barked at Poppy still stung, even then.</p><p>Alisaie’s hands unclenched and moved to fold neatly atop her lap. “I have nothing to say,” she said.</p><p>Each word was even but strained, balanced precariously between venom and ice. Poppy couldn’t help but scoff. She pushed herself onto her elbows, ignoring the aches that screamed at her to stop. She seated herself behind Alisaie, head bowed until it brushed against the soft tufts of her hair.</p><p>“<em>Liar</em>,” she whispered into the snowy strands.</p><p>Poppy could feel Alisaie tense and could practically hear the retort she likely formed. But her sharpness was smoothed into continued silence when Poppy let her fingers wander upward.</p><p>They found Alisaie’s hairpin and hairband and the crimson ribbon beneath it. She pulled out the pin, undid the band, and tugged at the end of the bow to set loose a curtain of silvery white. She held the adornments for a brief moment, letting her thumb skate over the ornate surface of the pin, before they were placed atop the bedside table to be forgotten. Poppy’s hand turned into a makeshift comb that slid easily through pale silk, moving slowly, gently, all without a word.</p><p>The distant sounds of night poured in through the open window among flecks of crystalline embers that danced with flickering candlelight. Alisaie unfurled before her, ilm by ilm, breath by breath, with each easy drag of Poppy’s fingers through her hair and each gentle gust of air that swirled around them to cool her anger. It was only when all the tension withered away that Poppy stopped and leaned forward again to press a cheek against Alisaie’s shoulder.</p><p>Poppy closed her eyes. She said nothing still, not wanting to press her luck, and waited instead for Alisaie’s move. For a while, few things existed beyond their soft breaths and the faint beating of both their hearts that echoed somewhere between them. In truth, she could’ve fallen asleep then and there. Eventually, however, Alisaie let out a long and weary sigh. It sounded hollow and made her shoulders droop.</p><p>“We’re running out of time.”</p><p>It was a whisper barely heard. But there it was; the source of her recent impatience and the reason why she’d lashed out. Poppy had figured as much was on her mind, but it was still a relief to hear her admit it out loud, on her own terms.</p><p>“You can sense it too, can’t you?” Alisaie asked. “Urianger and Thancred and even Y’shtola—they’re <em>fading</em>.” When she swallowed, her shoulders dropped further. She paused for a moment before the thin thread of emotion snapped. “It won’t be long before Alphinaud and I—”</p><p>She paused again, shook her head as if she meant to shake the thought away with the motion. Poppy frowned. She parted her lips to speak, to say something to fill the void. Any meager words of reassurance. Instead, Alisaie spoke again.</p><p>“I feel helpless,” she murmured. Her voice wavered just so, words pulled taut with obvious stress. It was enough to make Poppy’s heart clench; that rare moment of bare and honest vulnerability that Alisaie seldom placed before her.</p><p>For a time, Poppy was unsure what to say. She buried her face into Alisaie’s shoulder and was made acutely aware that this wasn’t her—not the physical her that remained a word away, but a bundle of aether in the shape of her, a soul made tangible by the miracle of magic. Temporary magic, she was reminded, that would soon falter if the two halves were not made whole. The thought left her unsettled and just a bit afraid.</p><p>“I know,” Poppy said. “I’m sorry.” <em>I feel helpless too</em>, she wanted to add, but knew that voicing her own fears would do Alisaie little good. So she held her instead, winding her arms around her waist from behind.</p><p>Alisaie sighed again; a simple sound, but one more easy than before. “Don't be,” she replied, her voice softened.</p><p>She wriggled in Poppy's grasp and turned to finally face her. She looked just as tired as Poppy felt, with heavy lids that fell over her weary gaze. She must have been exhausted, Poppy thought. Curing the light-poisoned patients at the Inn took an incredible amount of focus, after all. But she still managed a smile, almost wry and perhaps a bit apologetic.</p><p>“We're going to figure this out,” Poppy said. A hollow reassurance, perhaps, but she said it with such conviction—so strong was her belief that the Exarch would find a way—that Alisaie seemed to brighten a touch.</p><p>“How do you know?” Alisaie asked. It was a soft question, and honest.</p><p>Poppy looked down at the sheet, counted the threads as she thought, hoping she might find the answer there. “I don't,” she replied, a bit sheepish, but honest in turn.</p><p>Alisaie stared at her for a moment, searching her face. Poppy was surprised to hear her break into a quiet laugh.</p><p>“That’s <em>very</em> comforting to hear,” she said, tone tart. And yet, there was a shred of sincerity behind the sarcasm rather than the bile from before.</p><p>Alisaie gave Poppy a gentle shove to urge her back into bed. She chuckled, let herself sink into the softness of the sheets. And when she opened her arms, Alisaie joined her. They curled together, limbs tangling, close enough that Poppy could bury her face into Alisaie's hair once more.</p><p>“I’m not going to lose you,” Poppy murmured, idly, absently, almost more to herself. “I won’t rest until we figure this out.”</p><p>Alisaie hummed against her at that. “You had better rest,” she said. “I didn’t let you force me out of my duties for you to not sleep.”</p><p>It was a warning, but a gentle one that held no bite. Poppy chuckled. The breathy sound was paired with a tightened grip, and Alisaie held her tighter in turn.</p><p>Poppy couldn't claim to be as educated as the Exarch in Allagan technologies, or as skilled in aetherology as Urianger, or as well versed in magicks as Y’shtola. But she would stop at nothing to see the Scions safely back to the Source. And Alisaie sensed that, perhaps, as all the stress left her borrowed body and she finally succumbed to sleep. Poppy soon followed suit.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the original prompt that inspired this was "the waver in a person's voice when they're stressed". just something i've had in my head since last patch and figured i should write out before the new one.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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